


The Love That We Become

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no embarrassment visible and he wishes they were anywhere but in public at the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love That We Become

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to **effie214** for the prompt and **itsalwaysfour** for help brainstorming. 
> 
> Title from Little Big Town's _Tumble and Fall._

“No, no, there was definitely enough for another pot when I made it Saturday morning.” She grins at him, pressing the carton of ice cream into his hands as she turns down the aisle of water, tea, and—thank god—coffee. 

“You made _two_ pots Saturday.” The ‘remember?!’ goes unspoken as he falls into step next to her, his mouth turning up when her shoulders tense. Slightly, but it’s there. “You and Iris were busy pouring over the photography proofs and she started suggesting adding—” 

“The Amaretto was really good."

“I know.” He almost bumps into her as she stops in the middle in front of the coffee display and starts surveying. “You decided you should have something etched onto the bottom of my quiver.” 

“‘Return to Felicity, CEO of Queen Consolidated’ isn’t _that_ weird. Everyone knows the Arrow’s been involved in several... meetings... there.” Smirking, she picks up a canister only to immediately set it back down; no decaf for them. “And even if I did make two pots that day, you had at least three cups on Sunday, which I _didn’t_ make—”

“Oliver Queen?” 

The shrill voice interrupts them and she’s surprised when she looks up not to find a member of the press or a screaming college student, but an older woman, hair piled neatly on her head, Coach bag pressed firmly to her side. 

“Mr. Queen? Violet—”

“I know, Mrs. Baloud. How are you?” 

As she shakes the woman’s hand, Felicity catches a glimpse of her jewelry, the rich lining of her coat; this must be one of Moira’s friends. 

“...which keeps us busy. I do miss seeing your mother at the library board meetings. Well, we all do.” 

It hangs in the air. 

There’s nothing false about it and for that Felicity is glad. It took Oliver a long time to reconcile the many layers of his mother and while she wasn’t the easiest person to know, she did have a few close friendships, quite a few committees she was passionate about.

That this woman recognizes it, was one of those friends... 

“And who is this?”

“This, oh...” He juggles the ice cream, which is hilarious since it’s the only thing he’s holding, arm falling over her shoulders. “How wrong that I didn’t say something sooner; Mom would be appalled. I was distracted by seeing you and that disgusting coconut coffee though and this... this is my wife—” 

He stops, takes a step back, and stares. 

He’s grinning like an idiot he knows, but the words are echoing through the store, ricocheting through his body. 

_His wife._

She’s stunned by it, too. 

He can tell by the way her jaw drops slightly, how her head tips to the side just so. There’s laughter dancing in her eyes though, a soft smile spreading across her face as—

“You haven’t called me that be—” 

“That’s the first time I’ve—”

Laughing, he closes the short distance between them, tugging her against him.

The carton of ice cream is cold on his hip, but it doesn’t matter, not when her lips are rough on his, her tongue challenging and exploring him. 

He groans, his free hand flexing on her waist, his eyes slamming shut as the kiss deepens, echoing their embrace. 

“Ahem.” 

Violet’s gentle clearing of the throat forces them apart and he smiles as Felicity rights her glasses, smooths her coat. There’s no embarrassment visible, just her gaze sweeping appreciatively over him and god, he wishes they were anywhere but in public at the moment. 

“Ahem.” It’s softer this time, the older woman doing nothing to hide her laughter at the scene. “Congratulations almost seems like too weak of a word. It’s nice to meet you though, Mrs. Queen.” 

“Actually, it’s Mrs. Smoak-Queen.” He catches Felicity’s hand, his fingers curling against her palm. “We should probably decide on some coffee before the ice cream...” 

“Yes, I wouldn’t want to be the cause for ice cream soup. Have a good night.” 

She disappears into the front of the store as his wife— _wife_ —leans forward and begins sweeping containers of coffee off the shelf. She keeps one for herself before piling the other two into his arms on top of the mint chocolate chip. 

“Come on...” The corner of her mouth lifts, her thumb brushing against the base of his ring as she pulls him towards the cash registers. “I can’t wait for dessert with my husband...” 


End file.
